


When There Ain't No One to Stop Ya

by Coffin Liqueur (HP_Lovecats)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: 1K Words of a Guy Jackin' It, Masturbation, Porn Use, Pre-Resident Evil 7, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HP_Lovecats/pseuds/Coffin%20Liqueur
Summary: "Mom and Dad told me:'You have the house to yourself.'Welp! — Down come my pants."-Anonymous
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	When There Ain't No One to Stop Ya

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt a friend sent in re: an ask meme on Tumblr!

The folks are out checkin’ in on an aunt he can’t remember havin’ spoken to in years, over in the next town. Probably gonna be gone until suppertime; if not, they’ll let Zoe know.

Zoe herself, mean-the-while, has gone off to bring a few things over to Uncle Joe’s place, like a swampy Li’l Red Riding Hood. Likely to be gone, too, for a couple hours.

That means that for the time bein’, Lucas owns the place, and there ain’t no way  _ quite like this _ to actually feel like you’re actually in your damn house: sittin’ right there on the living room sofa, lounged back with yer knees kicked as far apart as your pants bein’ around them will allow, undies wriggled down enough to get the front a’ you  _ free and out into the air _ down to the balls, first dishrag you swiped from the kitchen on the way over wadded up in your hand and going to town.

Haphazardly set on the coffee table before him, his laptop’s got its volume cranked up to eleven streaming a porno he’s got all the important bits of committed to memory. God knows he don’t even need to have it on at all; livin’ in a house where you only got so much privacy due to the company managing to make a bigass farm estate feel cramped as hell, you learn to make due when blowin’ off steam - keepin’ your jerks nice and fast and urgent and squeezing more and more while reachin’ your thoughts out in a million different vaguely sexy directions at once till bam, they come together ‘n something pops, and that steam’s wafting off.

Buuuuuuut it’s a luxury he’s sure taking, both outta a measure of spite and ‘cause whoo it’s refreshing.

It gives ‘im something to take his time with; play pretend with.

Not to mention time himself with.

His lips are barely parted; the very tip-most of his tongue probes just behind his teeth as with little, round sweeps of his thumb, thin cloth swabs once around the tip, likewise, of his dick - again. Again…

...He tips his head into lolling back, sipping in a breath,  _ swabbin’  _ on. Lets fog begin to spill on into his eyes.  _ Heeeeeeeeeere it comes… _

In breaks the sound of a hitching moan, and in kind he lets a low sound curdle out of him almost gator-like as he sets to  _ polishing _ .

Keepin’ it in time with the soft beats of the audio under continued hitches of a lady’s voice and savoring the synchronized landing of his cloth-wrapped fist against his hips. He steadily blows out a cloud of rising steam, vision foggin’ up further in favor of the floaty mental image of hittin’ it from the back; one moment, her hair’s long ‘n red, the next, black n’ cropped, but any way, ‘s gettin’ the job done.

Can’t see much of a thing through the buildup of that good cleansin’ humidity, anyway. He blinks slowly - eyes shutting, shaping a slow, rough exhale into a couple go-get-’em whispers of  _ oh yeah, oh yeah… _ to himself -- making himself sniff as, in another moment of anticipation, he tightens his hold and twists his mouth over gritted teeth as he slams his hand down the length of his dick, the beat-hit sharp and the burn all nice and doubled for the chasing as --

...Ohhhh, theeeeeere that part comes, the girl givin’ a nice whiny twistin’ up  _ wail…! _

The warp of his face shapes further into a teeth-grittin’ bitten-locked grin and his brow and the bridge of his nose scrunch tight as everything begins to go faster, get sharper. The pace of strokes and sounds of _skin slappin’ and_ _juices sloshing_ that he’s keepin’ up with - matching where he can and then some, grip not even well voluntarily tightening on every downward stroke and skimmin’ back up lighter off every strike; the speed and shifts of that mental image of a shape rockin’ in front of and underneath ‘im; the hisses and rattles-in of his own breath.

Grinnin’ jaws part to squeeze out a  _ yeah…! _ between himself and the  _ beats  _ \- he snaps ‘em shut again, pressin’ the rest o’ that thought out in the mental scene while sound plays on.

_...Hohhhhhhhh, you like that, right…? _

_ Right… _

...Pffffshit, even that begins to peter thin and got lost as the girl in the audio lets out another long, twisting-and-spiraling-up wail --

He twists a shivering back till his hips are off the couch and his ribs’re against the cushion, nostrils flaring and twist of his face back to a grin-free determination, and eyes rolled high-and-back to get more of him checked-out-for-focus behind their lids.

_ Come on…! _

Every sound out of the girl in the audio, now is a whine - no break between the hits.

He whines, too - one tiny little catching noise in the upper back of his head; his teeth clench tighter, his back twists tighter, and he falls right out of step with matching, a  _ beat-beat-beat-beat-beat-beat-beat-beat _ and a mental picture playing at roiling, roaring speed --

_ \-- Come  _ **_on…!_ **

\-- One stroke makes him whimper again and set off his nerves quivering and his hips twitching and jerking - the whine prolongs as his mind clamps down onto that,  _ yeahyeahyeah _ **_more_ ** _ \-- ! _ as he repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats, back bending deeper to give right on into it -- …!

His hips bob in midair, knockin’ up to meet every strike of his fist down; his head burns and he whines again at it; hisses in the wake of it, drawin’ in a doglike snarrrrl in the wake of that with his mouth continuing to twist…!

\-- He strikes another nerve.

It lights up the front of his brain and has his eyes snappin’ open to look on into it and his mouth open to huff out a gasp like it’s an answer.

\-- He needs to give it some more buzz.

His hand fixes in place. His thumb swabs again, up and down and again and again along the underside of the tip, teasing that bright even brighter and hotter until -- …!

\-- It bursts and pools, streaking his vision and breaking out a breath that he’d pinched held in the instant, long and hot and woozy and ragged.

Another swell-upward of his hips begins to fall, shakin’ like his back all the way up into the middle, as he finishes coming into the rack, massaging his dick all the way down to rest, still feelin’ the burn and the pulse of hot blood.

Once again, his hand stills to a hold. Loosely.

...He lets ‘imself lay all-but-limp where he’s sittin’ otherwise. He blinks, sleepily; lets himself catch his breath, lazily, with pauses in between. 

Somewhere in the… far-away of just lemme cool off, the porno’s still playing. The girl’s gettin’ real loud, now.

His eyes switch under half-lowered lids to the grandfather clock. It’s only been seven minutes.

The girl caterwauls. He can’t say he’s feelin’ anything.

A flick’ a vision to the hand in his lap. He did a good job coverin’ up; that rag’s mostly dry. Could probably drop it right in the wash without nobody gettin’ on his case.

A flick, unfocused, to the wallpaper. The light ain’t even dim yet.

His breath begins to slow. So does the girl’s.

...It’s going to be a looooooong, loooooooooong couple hours.


End file.
